


Lifted / Alight

by unadrift



Series: SGA Season Five Tags [17]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Related, M/M, Romance, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-05
Updated: 2009-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-04 04:29:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unadrift/pseuds/unadrift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John decides that he's had enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lifted

**Author's Note:**

> Tag for _Infection_. Chapter one is one-sided McKay/Sheppard; needless to say, it's not a happy story. It was beta'd by trystings. Chapter two is McKay/Sheppard and was beta'd by xparrot and snarkydame.

_Remember when John said to Woolsey that yes, Todd might go to all sorts of trouble just to kill John, but maybe this was a bit much? And remember the way Rodney glared at John then?_

  
* * * * *

  
"Do we need to have a talk?" Rodney asked briskly, hovering over John and his coffee and chocolate cake, arms crossed.

John just raised an eyebrow and saved his breath. Inquiring about the nature of the remark was entirely unnecessary. This was Rodney. He would go on anyway, in three, two, one--

"About who is Todd's least favorite?" Rodney clarified. Or rather, he probably intended to clarify. John had gotten kind of used to the twisted pathways Rodney's thoughts were prone to taking, but even previous experience was of no help to John here.

"Killing _you_?" Rodney muttered dismissively. He pulled up a chair and sat down opposite John. "How did you ever reach the conclusion that Todd might go to any trouble just so he can kill you? Me, now that makes a lot more sense. With my expert knowledge on Wraith technology, the numerous plans I designed and executed that cost countless Wraith lives. Yes, Todd might go to any lengths to kill the MVP on our side. But you?"

If John had been swallowing a sip of coffee just then, he would have choked on it. He stared, disbelieving, long enough for Rodney to take notice.

"What?" Rodney asked, sounding genuinely puzzled.

"I don't even know where to start," John said, shaking his head. "You-- Every time I think you can't get any more--" He gestured at Rodney. The expression to adequately put the essence of ill-adjusted Rodney-esque behavior into words hadn't been invented yet. "--you go along and top it," John finished.

"Top what?"

John set his cup down.

"One," he ticked off on his fingers. "The numerous plans _you_ designed? Two: Which you executed _all on your own_? Would you like to rephrase those statements before I go into detail about all the ways in which they are just wrong? And three: Did you really just lay out for me all the reasons why you deserve the top position on Todd's death list? I suggest you send an application with credentials, since my word doesn't carry much weight with him," John said crossly.

It was Rodney's turn to stare then, wide-eyed and surprised.

Okay, so John usually took Rodney's chronically insane behavior in stride. He even liked and occasionally nursed Rodney's competitive streak, because it was fun to banter and argue with him, to push him further, to drive him to new heights of productivity. Truthfully, it had always been entirely too much fun for John. Plus, more often than not a little prodding had proved to be the key to the success of a mission or, at worst, even their survival.

But there was a line. John had suspected that they were going to encounter it at some point, though he had never been able to even make a guess where that might be.

Tonight, for some reason, Rodney had reached that line and crossed it.

"Some days I can't believe they call you a genius," John continued. When Rodney was actually speechless, the moment had to be seized. "For all that intellect of yours, you sure have a limited understanding of what's going on around you, of what other people contribute to ensure Atlantis' safety."

Rodney's mouth opened, then closed again. His face was flushed, his eyes narrowed, but instead of the sarcastic, snappy retort John expected – the very _Rodney_ thing to do – Rodney looked down at the table, then at John again. "Well. Um. I suppose I should-- Jennifer suggested that I try to act more, er, humble."

"Of course she did," John said, not bothering to keep the sarcasm out of his voice for once. He waited for the pang of jealousy to hit him, like it usually did when Rodney mentioned Keller in her capacity as his new girlfriend.

Only it didn't hit. Not this time.

There was nothing but that familiar frustration with Rodney's selective obliviousness, which had suddenly lost its cutting edge of missed opportunities, of 'should-have's and 'not-meant-to-be's.

The realization was followed by an intense feeling of relief. Five years' worth of self-denial, tentative hope, and deceptive certainty so strong that John had thought he could almost taste it at times--

Lifted. Just like that.

Rodney studied John with a piercing stare, the one that usually meant he was _this close_ to figuring something out. If Rodney did, now, if he chose this moment to finally buy a clue, to get his head out of his ass, to _realize_\-- John was going to have to punch him in the face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Rodney asked instead, almost defensively.

"Nothing," John answered. "Forget it."

For a moment it looked like Rodney wouldn't let it go. But then he just pointed at the abandoned cake on the table. "If you're not going to--"

"Go ahead," John said, aiming an easy smile at Rodney. "I'm finished."

Rodney pulled the plate towards him.

John stood and left, not looking back.


	2. Alight

Sheppard walked away from the table, from Rodney, with strangely measured steps. Rodney was left to pick at the abandoned piece of chocolate cake and to contemplate Sheppard's subdued behavior and hollow smile.

Sarcasm had always been Rodney's weapon of choice. He never knew whether Sheppard had picked it up from Rodney or whether he had been a master of the art before. They'd had their fights and friendly quarrels – sometimes armed with sarcasm, sometimes without. But never before had they exchanged verbal blows like this, not in a manner that had truly been intended to hurt.

_Of course she did,_ Sheppard had said.

It was bad enough that Jennifer couldn't seem to cease finding flaws in Rodney, to push him to improve. It was bad enough that she was trying to change him all the time. Apart from that, they were good. As good as could be expected when Rodney was involved. Rodney knew he wasn't an easy person to be with. He figured he had to make compromises.

But now Sheppard was starting to follow Jennifer's example?

This wasn't happening.

Because the thing that Rodney had always liked best about Sheppard was that he made being with Rodney look easy.

There was no need for pretense with Sheppard, no need to act nicer, or more considerate, or more _humble_. Sheppard had always known how to take Rodney at face value, how to recognize his quirks and work with them, how to see his flaws and make him put them to good use. When Rodney was out of line, when he was about to screw up due to arrogance and overconfidence – Rodney was self-aware enough to admit that it had happened before and could possibly happen again – Sheppard was the one to turn his backside to, because Sheppard could be counted on to deliver the necessary ass-kicking. Sheppard could be counted on, period.

The undeniable fact was: Sheppard understood Rodney. Truly got him. Other people had, before. But once they realized that what you saw really was what you got, they usually didn't come back for more. Sheppard had been the first not to turn tail and run.

The insight wasn't new, but the sinking feeling in Rodney's stomach was. _I'm finished,_ Sheppard had said earlier, referring to the cake – or so Rodney had thought at the time. Remembering the weirdly detached undertone in Sheppard's voice, he wasn't so sure about that any more.

He didn't bother busing his tray, just hurried from the mess in search of Sheppard.

"What did I do?" Rodney asked, as soon as the door to Sheppard's quarters opened.

He shouldered past Sheppard into the room.

"Hey, Rodney," Sheppard said sarcastically. "Why don't you come in?"

"Cut that out. You just-- what? Ended our friendship? Entirely without reason? And don't say you were talking about the cake, because in retrospect, you didn't sound at all like you were talking about the cake." Rodney straightened automatically under the dark look Sheppard was sending his way. "I think I deserve an explanation."

Sheppard made a noise that sounded like a choked-off laugh. "You deserve?" He let the door close behind him, then leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, looking far too casual not to be incredibly tense.

"Yes," Rodney said. "I do. We've been friends for, what, almost five years? You can't just terminate the contract. It's a two-way street."

Sheppard did laugh this time. It wasn't a nice sound. "I'm not terminating anything. You are jumping to conclusions. Like you always do."

"I'm a scientist. By definition, I do not jump to conclusions."

"Yeah, right."

"You know, just because I'm spending a lot of time with Jennifer now, that doesn't mean that I'm--"

Rodney would have bet good money that Sheppard couldn't be tipped any more off-balance than he obviously already was. He would have been so wrong.

A fleeting look of-- something crossed Sheppard's face. Something that Rodney couldn't place right away, something that seemed to be related to the mention of--

"Oh my god," Rodney said. "You're jealous? Because I spend time with her?" He squinted at Sheppard's very guarded, slightly nervous expression. "You want Jennifer, too?" he said accusingly.   
Because-- Great. This was just perfect. First Ronon and now Sheppard. Sheppard! Of all the women Sheppard could have picked--

"I'm not jealous," Sheppard interrupted and waited a beat too long before finishing with, "of you."

"Hey," Rodney said, frowning. Something important had just been communicated here. Something deep and meaningful and life-altering. Sheppard looked slightly ill, and that was as good a confirmation for its significance as any. "Wait. You're jealous of _her?_"

Sheppard was glaring daggers at him, and probably biting down hard on his tongue.

"You-- You like me?" Rodney asked, marveling. Because, well, _John_. "You like me! You really like me!"

Before Rodney could properly process the revelation and all its consequences, he was suddenly sitting on the floor, seeing stars, and not in the good way. Sheppard was standing above him with a clenched fist and a furious expression.

"You hit me!" Rodney said, more surprised than anything, and raised a hand to touch his aching jaw. "Ow. What did you do that for?"

"Four years," Sheppard hissed through gritted teeth. "Four goddamn years! And now that I've finally-- Now that this is no longer--" Sheppard turned away from him, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. "I think you should go now."

For about five seconds Rodney just stared at the back of John's knees. Then he started laughing. It hurt. Oh god, did it hurt his face, but he couldn't have stopped if his life depended on it. By the time Rodney was clutching his sides, gasping for breath, Sheppard was crouched down next to him, a hand on Rodney's face, checking his pupils.

"Did you bump your head?" Sheppard asked. "Do you have blurry vision? Rodney, calm down. Jesus, what is it with you?"

Rodney batted Sheppard's hand away, shaking his head. "This would be beyond hilarious," he managed to get out between one laugh and the next, "if it wasn't so tragic."

Sheppard narrowed his eyes in a way that made him look, god, _hurt_, and Rodney grabbed his wrist before Sheppard could move away.

"No," Rodney said, catching his breath. "No. Wait. You've got it wrong. Three years. It's been three years for me."

Sheppard just stared at him for a long moment. Finally, he blinked and slowly pulled away. "You're saying-- What are you saying? You can't be serious. Three years? You-- Why the hell didn't you ever say anything?"

"Me?" Rodney asked, incredulously. "Why me?" He scrambled to get up from the floor. "What about you? Why didn't _you?_"

"I would have--" Sheppard began. "But you were-- There was no--" He stopped, obviously at a loss for words.

"Exactly!" Rodney pointed a finger at him.

"What?" Sheppard asked, confused. Then he seemed to get a foot in the metaphorical door of his argument. "You never gave _any_ indication that you might be interested in men, or in me specifically. You've been dating women since year three. You almost got engaged! How was I to know--"

"I gave you every opportunity to speak up. Even right before the proposal," Rodney interrupted him, voice rising. "You didn't. I came to you, I showed you the ring. If you had said the word then, if you had-- I'd have changed my mind. I did change my mind."

"Because of me?" Sheppard asked, looking stunned. "You didn't go through with it because of me?"

"No," Rodney immediately denied, and he was kind of glad that Sheppard didn't call him on the big fat lie. "But you! With space babe of the week, ascended or not, charming her way into your pants, and the constant flirting with every chieftain's daughter out there, how is one supposed to deduce that you are anything other than perfectly straight? You never gave any hint that you were interested in more than just--" He waved his hand between them. "You know. With me. Never!"

"Rodney," Sheppard said, his voice just shy of exasperation. "The things I did for you."

"The things you did for me?" Rodney repeated, frowning.

"You really need me to spell it out for you?" Sheppard looked determined, and hugely uncomfortable at the same time. This was-- Holy crap, Rodney realized with a start, this was them, talking about their _feelings_.

But that explained it. The last time he had seen John look like this had been-- Oh. Right before John had gone and talked a man into letting himself be killed to save Rodney's life. The look on John's face then, when Rodney had told him what he was planning to do--

"Wallace," Rodney said – finally, _finally_ getting it. "You backing me up in my nightmares. The Geldar game. Those tedious meditation sessions. The time after Doranda. The trip to the Shrine. The pier." And golf and chess and movies and comic book discussions, and hours and hours of stupid sci-fi shows which always ended with John sharing his popcorn.

John was watching him silently, not moving, not giving away anything at all.

"What you said before, that you're finished?" Rodney asked. He took a step closer. John didn't move away. "You meant, finished with this? With waiting."

Slowly, John nodded. "Yeah."

Fueled by a boldness of uncertain origin, Rodney kept closing in, until he could distinguish the different colors in John's irises, until John's quick breaths were warm against his skin. "And, are you? Finished?"

They were almost close enough for their noses to bump together. John swallowed. "I thought so," he answered at last.

"Well, tough. I'm not." Rodney ran his hand down John's arm, from elbow to wrist, then let his fingertips slide over the palm of John's hand.

John's fingers flexed and his breath hitched. "Haven't you forgotten about something?"

"What?" Rodney asked, distracted by the feeling of warm skin, of fingers linking ever so slowly through his.

"Your girlfriend?"

Oh. _Oh._ Right. For a moment there, Rodney had. The realization propelled him two steps backwards, away from John. He blinked a few times and took a deep breath. "Right. I-- I need to talk to her. I'll just-- I'll--"

"What? Dump her?" Sheppard said, grimly. "I thought you love her."

"I do. Honestly, I do. But it's not like-- It doesn't compare. You're-- you."

Something complicated happened on John's face. Rodney had never been an expert on reading people, but this-- He just knew it wasn't bad. He didn't know what it was, exactly, but it wasn't bad.

"Rodney--" John said.

"Hold that thought," Rodney interrupted, with his arm stretched out, palm flat against John's chest. "I'll just-- I might be a while."

Then he turned and walked out the door.

* * *

The 'while' turned out to be almost four hours, one of which Rodney spent pacing in his quarters, wondering what _the hell_ he thought he was doing. Another two he sat with Jennifer, talking. To be exact, she was doing most of the coherent talking while he was doing the panicking.

Rodney wondered what was more pathetic, the fact that he had his big gay freak-out _after_ his long-time running gay crush on his closest friend, or the fact that his almost-still current girlfriend had to talk him through the panic attack, so that he wouldn't die from hyperventilation and tragically miss out on the possible benefits of said big gay crush.

In the end, Jennifer leaned back in her chair, cocked her head at him and said with a sigh, "Well, it was a nice delusion while it lasted."

This threw Rodney for a loop. "What?"

"It wasn't like I didn't suspect."

"You-- What?"

"When I first got here, I thought that you and John were-- You know. But no one seemed to be able to tell me anything definitive either way, so--" She met Rodney's widened eyes and trailed off. "Well, it was obvious. Or at least a lot of people thought so."

"Nothing definitive?" Rodney repeated stupidly. "A lot of people?" And that had been almost two years ago.

"Don't feel bad about not seeing this sooner," Jennifer said and leaned forward to grasp his arm. "I think it's a guy thing. Genetic, probably. I'm a doctor, I should know."

Rodney shook his head in disbelief. "What? Just so that we're on the same page here, are _you_ the one comforting _me?_ I just broke up with you!"

"Technically, you hyperventilated, and didn't say much at all," Jennifer pointed out.

"True," Rodney conceded. "Still, I--"

"Rodney," she cut in, with a reassuring smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'll be fine. Like I said, this isn't unexpected."

He felt a rush of warmth and affection for her, stronger than ever before, but still not strong enough to _compare_. "You-- You're far too nice for me."

Jennifer gave him another not-quite smile and squeezed his arm, briefly, before letting go.

"I'm sorry," Rodney said, and immediately felt incredibly stupid for doing so, because it sounded pathetic and inadequate, and Jennifer deserved better.

After a moment of silence Jennifer asked brightly, "We can stay friends, right?"

"I didn't expect to ever feel relief upon hearing those words," Rodney said earnestly. "But I'd like that. Very much. Um. If you really think that you can--"

She rolled her eyes at him then and ushered him out. He pretended not to notice the way her hands were trembling slightly when she reached out to palm the door controls.

 

* * *

 

Rodney spent another hour in his quarters, wearing circular patterns into the carpet, with his mind going in circles, too. Jesus, what was he doing? What had he been _thinking_? He had made a pass at John, a _pass_ at _John_, and only afterwards he had gone and broken up with his girlfriend. Or rather, he had let her figure it out all on her own, being the bastard that he was. And now? What now?

He should carefully think this through, Rodney reasoned, should not rush into anything head-first anymore, should give every aspect of this situation the thorough deliberation it deserved and-- Oh, screw this.

Rodney didn't bother knocking when he entered John's quarters for the second time that day. He stopped just inside the door, staring. John was lying on the bed, reading, _War and Peace_ propped up on his chest. His shirtless chest.

John put the book aside and stood. Attentive, waiting, shirtless. The shirtless part was just a little distracting. Rodney had seen John's bare chest before, but not _seen_ seen. He hadn't been allowed to look.

With Rodney still by the door and John by the bed, they were far enough apart to put a table between them and start a ping pong match. Still, there was-- something. Something new. Was it new? Tension, so thick that a laser would burn a hole right through. Heat. Not the imaginative, one-sided kind that sprang from lonesome pining. It was the kind that was returned, and magnified tenfold each time it bounced back and forth. (Like a ping pong ball, Rodney couldn't help thinking.)

The eyes. It was all in John's eyes. No wonder everyone in the entire city thought they _knew_\-- How had Rodney not seen this before?

"Is it a good or a bad thing that we're both socially retarded?" John asked, as if he had been reading Rodney's mind.

Rodney considered this. "It levels the field, at least."

John snorted. "We've always been pretty evenly matched."

"That is not true," Rodney argued. "At least not completely. In comparison, your intelligence is in no way--"

John smirked. "Competitive, are we?"

"If you haven't figured that out by now, I really should be leaving," Rodney said, only half-joking.

"You really shouldn't." John was perfectly serious, with something dangerous, something dark, lurking under the level tone. He stared intently at Rodney from across the room for a while longer – and had someone turned up the thermostat while Rodney hadn't been looking?

"Um," Rodney finally managed to say, "one of us should probably move?"

John grinned, and for one confusing moment Rodney couldn't figure out why.

"Story of our lives," John said, and then, in the space of a blink, the glint in his eyes turned from amused to predatory. It was the only warning Rodney got.

Rodney had been about to propose the obvious, rational solution of just meeting in the middle. But the sight (just the sight!) of John advancing on him, and the way John pushed him back against the door, fisting his hands in Rodney's jacket, did an effective job of shutting down all regions of his brain that were responsible for rational thought, in favor for the ones that were currently yelling 'yes' and 'please' and 'now!'.

"Can we stop talking?" John said, breath hot against Rodney's lips.

"I'm not the one who's talking," Rodney pointed out irritably and kissed him. Because someone had to get their act together and do it, and John was clearly a big tease, and they weren't getting any younger here, and-- whoa.

John was kissing back, and Rodney's brain abandoned its duties altogether, time stopped, and the universe might have hiccupped. Rodney couldn't be entirely sure.

"This is how it's supposed to feel, right? Like this?" he asked against John's lips, light-headed, breathing hard, with his hand on the back of John's head.

"How should I know?" John placed a light kiss on the tender side of Rodney's jaw, probably meant as an apology.

"Wow," Rodney said. "We're both pathetic."

John chuckled. It came out low and dirty, and it did _things_ to Rodney. He decided that a) he didn't need to hear John's answer to that, and b) they really should be making out some more. John apparently didn't disagree.

"You know," Rodney said, in between licking John's neck, and gasping from the hand that squeezed his ass. "I'm really, really glad we're, ngnn, oh, having this conversation."

"Took you long enough," John breathed into his ear.

"Me?" Rodney asked incredulously, jerking back. "Took _me_ long enough? Why is it that everything is always--"

John rolled his eyes and cut him off with another kiss.

Rodney could see his point.


End file.
